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Thursday, August 25, 2016

Welcome to my stop on the Virtual
Tour, presented by Goddess Fish Promotions, for Solitary
Horsemanby Deborah Camp. Please leave a
comment or question for Deborah to let her know you stopped by. You may enter her tour wide giveaway, where
one (1) randomly chosen commenter will be awarded a $50 Amazon/BN GC, by
filling out the Rafflecopter form below.
You may follow all of the stops of the tour by clicking on the banner
above. The more stops you visit, the
better your odds of winning. Good Luck!

Interview With Deborah
Camp

What are four things you can’t live without?

Deborah: Oxygen, food, books,
engaging conversations

What is your favorite television show?

Deborah: It’s a toss-up between
Lucifer and The People’s Couch. I love Lucifer’s premise and hot Tom Ellis. As
for The People’s Couch, that show makes me laugh more than any other. I’m also
a big fan of The Walking Dead.

If you could be any character, from any
literary work, who would you choose to be? Why?

Deborah: Usually whatever book
I’m reading, I want to be the female protagonist. Same goes for whatever book
I’m writing. If I don’t want to be the heroine (at least by the happily ever
after ending), then the book probably won’t be a favorite of mine.

What have you got coming soon for us to look
out for?

Deborah: Aside from Solitary
Horseman, I’m plotting another western historical and I’m writing the 4th book
in my romantic suspense Mind’s Eye series. It’s about two psychic detectives –
Trudy can see through the murderer/rapist’s eyes and Levi can communicate with
the deceased – who find love with one another and work on high-profile cases
together. Each book is stand-alone as far as the murder case is concerned, but
their relationship evolves throughout the series. That book should be released
the first few months of 2017.

Texas rancher Callum Latimer
believed that the Civil War had killed everything tender and yearning inside of
him until he struck up a partnership with Banner Payne. His dark-haired,
golden-eyed, spirited neighbor stirred embers that he thought were long dead .
. .

Sunlight glided over hair as
she shifted from one boot to the other, and before his mind could catch up with
his instincts, Callum reached out and wrapped his index finger around one of
her auburn curls. Its softness against his calloused skin sent longing through
him like a rushing river. She’d be like that all over – soft where he was hard,
giving where he was not. He heard her gasp and his heart bucked.

EXCERPT

Topping
a small ridge, he caught sight of the two cowhands, who were now with Eller and
Hollis. Just as well. He didn’t mind that audience for what he was about to do.
They needed to know what he would and wouldn’t put up with. As Butter
approached them at a lazy trot, they all turned in their saddles to face him.
Shadows played across them, but Callum was fairly certain that Johnson and
Baines shared a quick and telling eyeball to eyeball exchange.

Yes,
boys, time to reap what you’ve sown. Callum slowed Butter to a walk and then
reined her to a stop near the semi-circle of cowpokes. He looked toward the
mooing herd, some grazing and some lying down to chew their cud. They were all
Payne cattle. He could tell because they were underweight by his standards.

“They’re
sure on the puny side,” he said, swinging his gaze back to the men and zeroing
in on Johnson. He figured that Jeb Johnson was the ringleader and Russell
Baines followed along like a faithful hound. “Long way from bringing top dollar
at market.”

“We’ll
get them fattened up by market time,” Eller said, all puffed up with confidence
he sure as hell hadn’t earned.

“We
will, huh? That’s good to hear. I’ll hold you to that, Eller. If they’re not,
maybe you’d be so kind as to let me dock your pay.”

Eller
grinned. “I ain’t that kind, cousin.”

“Didn’t
think so.”

“But
we will get these cattle up to a decent weight.” Eller gave him a wink.

Callum
switched his attention to Johnson again. “Any of you know what happened to the
heifer that birthed the calf we found this morning?”

They
all exchanged befuddled glances, shaking their heads.

“I’ve
looked for her off and on all morning,” Hollis said. “I found a trail, but it
got washed out.”

“Over
that rise, out by the Pitchfork foothills?” Callum asked, and Hollis nodded. “I
saw that, too. Did you notice that it was the tracks of more than one cow?”

“Yep.
Looked like maybe three or four.”

Callum
nodded, all the while keeping his gaze shifting from Johnson to Baines and back
to Johnson. “Mama cows with newborns don’t wander off with a couple of other
heifers and leave their calves behind them.”

“Maybe
a coyote was after her,” Baines said.

“No
coyote tracks. Just cattle and horses.”

“Horses?”
Hollis echoed with a scowl.

“They
were mostly rubbed out by someone trailing a branch, making them hard to see. I
had to get down off my horse and look real close to find a few of them.”

“Well,
hell.” Eller crossed his wrists on his saddle horn. “I don’t like the sound of
that, cousin.”

“Only
one conclusion to make from it,” Callum said, staring hard at Johnson and
watching the sweat bead on the man’s forehead under his hat’s brim and dampen
his droopy black mustache. “We have some cattle thieves in our ranks.” From his
periphery vision, he saw Hollis and Eller glance at each other and then direct
their attention to Johnson and Baines.

“I’ve
heard that, too, but I don’t have any Yanks on my payroll.” Callum squinted one
eye, taking a sharper bead on Johnson. “You took the Payne’s market money last
season, didn’t you?”

“No!”
Baines blurted, his eyes growing even bigger, bugging out even.

“We
was robbed,” Johnson said, quietly, his face tightening.

“Yeah,
I heard that story.” Callum rested his hand on the butt of his gun. “Since then
Payne cattle have gone missing every few weeks – a few here and a few there. I
reckon you’re in cahoots with another rancher or just hiding the stolen cattle
in the brush land by the river. Letting them get fat before you drive them to
market. Of course, you plan to hightail it from here before then.”

“You
surely ain’t accusing us of stealing,” Johnson snarled.

“No.”
Callum leaned closer. “I’m calling you thieving sonsofbitches outright and to
your cowardly faces. Men are hung for what you’ve done, but I don’t have the
time to catch you at your thieving and turn you over to the sheriff to be
hanged. So, I’m telling you to get the hell off this land and don’t ever show
yourselves to me again or I’ll put a bullet in your brain pans and not lose a
wink’s sleep over it.” He stared hard at Baines and then at Johnson. “Either
one of you doubt me? Say so now and I’ll demonstrate on one of you.” He
tightened the ivory grip on his revolver and pulled it ever so slowly from the
holster.

He
could see that he’d made an instant believer out of Baines, but it took Johnson
a few seconds.

“You’re
plumb loco!” Baines said. “You can’t just shoot a man and get away with it.”

“I
don’t see anyone who would say that what I do or don’t do isn’t right and
proper.” He glanced at Hollis and Eller. Hollis looked off to the horizon and
Eller gave a shrug and another grin.

Johnson
stared at him before the blood slowly seeped from his face until he was pasty
white. He looked away from Callum’s steady gaze and stared at Eller.

“You
got anything to say about this, Hawkins?” Johnson asked.

Eller’s
brows shot up. “Seems that Cal’s doing all the talking here. I’m just a
bystander.”

Johnson
glowered at him for a moment and then spit at the ground near Eller’s horse.
“We don’t stay where we ain’t wanted. Where do we pick up our pay?”

Callum
had to smirk at that. “You can pick it up in cow dung on your way off the
ranch.”

Johnson’s
head angled back as if he’d been socked. “You’ve made an enemy, Latimer.” He
reined his horse around and gave it his spurs. Baines was right behind him, his
copper colored mustang throwing up dirt clods.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Author of more than 45
novels, Deborah lives in Oklahoma. She has been a full-time writer
since she graduated from the University of Tulsa. She worked for a few years as
a reporter for newspapers before becoming a freelance writer. Deborah's first
novel was published in the late 1970s and her books have been published by
Jove, New American Library, Harlequin, Silhouette, and Avon. She has been
inducted into the Oklahoma Authors Hall of Fame and she is a charter member of
the Romance Writers of America. She is also a member of the Author's Guild.

Lover of the west and the
people who tried to tame it, Deborah likes to write about strong, independent
women and the men who are their equals. She grew up on a diet of TV westerns
which have served her well. Since she appreciates men with devilish twinkles in
their eyes, she likes to mix laughter in with the love scenes in her books.
Also widely published in non-fiction, she writes and edits for a magazine
focused on small businesses. Deborah taught fiction writing for more than 10
years at a community college. She is currently working on her next historical
romance set in the wild, wonderful west.

Her books have been re-issued
on Amazon for Kindle Direct and have attracted tens of thousands of new fans.
For a list of them, visit her website.

Study, study, study. Read the books you love as if they were textbooks -- how is the dialogue written, what is the POV, how are characters introduced, etc. Then join writer groups and learn from people who have been there and done that. Get into a critique group that includes published writers. Once you are certain you have a professionally written, edited, and proofread manuscript submit it to contests to see if it rises to the top like cream. If it does, then submit it to publishers and/or agents. Good luck!

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